Sinners
by stormsandsins
Summary: Ginny Weasley has found out she’s been exploited without her knowing. A Polyjuice brothel. Draco Malfoy. A grown and not-so-innocent Ginny Weasley. “I keep having to remind myself that they’re not real, any of them.”
1. Chapter 1: 534

_**SINNERS: 534**_

_August 4th, 2001_

A woman with fair skin and bright, fiery hair entered the chic stone edifice, arms crossed over her chest to keep the biting cold out of her faux fur-trimmed cloak. She slammed the heavy wooden door shut and smirked as she noticed moving shadows in every dark corner of the grand mansion, which had been turned into an equally grand Polyjuice brothel a few years ago.

She slipped off her cloak to reveal heavy, knee-high dragon-hide boots, a short black shirt made of sheer gauze, and tiny spandex-and-lace bustier that was charmed to lend her quite a bit of cleavage without exposing everything. Her hair matched the crimson of her top, carelessly thrown into a low messy sideways ponytail.

She pursed her lips, careful not to ruin her expensive lipstick (Chanel for WizWomen in Vampire Blood), waiting for the blonde belle behind the administrative counter to be done with her prey. Impatient, she decided against waiting any longer, signed herself up for a room and reached for the matching key herself.

* * *

So far, so good. Ginny Weasley wasn't used to places like this, but she had found out much to her utter astonishment, much by accident, that people regularly Polyjuiced themselves into her. Shocked, but intrigued, she had decided to plunge into their world headfirst to find out who had ever demanded her body. Not that she thought it would be an easy task; keeping this secret from her family was a daunting task in itself. She hadn't put a lot of thought into the plan and was so far very lucky that she was still alive and breathing the highly intoxicated air around her.

Ginny rounded a corner on the fifth floor and walked down a long narrow hallway, where cries of ecstasy and leather whipping flesh were heard. She frowned. The key read 534. She spied a plaque on a random door and read 522.

"Just a little further," she murmured to herself.

Moans, cries and exaltations answered her in the mostly empty hallway that she overlooked, rather disenchanted. She let her fingers trail a path across the rich reds and creme of the décor as she wandered deeper into the mansion. Everything about the place was insanely expensive, from the perfumed air and the heavy, mahogany doors to the plush, velvet covered chairs. It wasn't just the highly paid prostitutes, men or women, or the Polyjuice, but far more than all of that. She couldn't explain it; it was just different from anything she had ever known.

Finally, she reached the room marked 534, and ceremoniously slid the key in its perfectly matching keyhole. What met her when she walked into the richly appointed chamber was just that: its richness. It was disconcerting to say the least. The window was open, and the light crème curtains fluttered in the cool night air. Scented candles were lit on a small round table next to it and the huge bed neatly turned down, with a small box of chocolates resting on the pearly white sheets. Godiva, she thought. The expensive Muggle kind. On the bed table, several scented bottles of oil rested, inviting the next consumer to use them at will. A beautiful glass chandelier sparkled above the bed, refracting light from the gorgeous Tiffany lamps. Everything looked very, very expensive, whether it came from the Wizarding world or was simply a beautiful Muggle ornament.

There was something rich, neat and sensual about this room that she had never met before and she wondered vaguely just who owned the brothel; she felt she needed to at least praise them for their breathtaking acquisitions.

She had been in the room for less than ten minutes when a voice from the doorway startled her out of her awe.

"Lush, isn't it?" the voice asked.

She turned to find a man standing in the shadows. From what she could decipher, he was lean and tall. His voice harboured exaggerated pride and profound amusement. He stepped out of the shadows, and Ginny stifled a gasp.

"Thought I'd visit," he continued, unperturbed, as he walked forward to close the distance between them. Ginny had to remind herself to breathe and not panic. But it was hard, considering that she had no earthly idea what she was doing. "You're new, aren't you? Don't look quite used to the Polyjuice effect. That's fine. There's always room for improvement, or so I heard."

He looked up and away from her to appraise their surroundings. "Father always did purchase nothing but the very best," he said, and paused. "I must say… you chose the best chambers."

Ginny was silent. She wanted her plan to work. But she was also frozen with an anger that had filled her every molecule the moment the young steel-eyed, silver blonde-haired man had walked into the room.

"My name is Draco Malfoy," he announced unceremoniously, although a trace of reverence showered his words when he spoke his name, a lot like someone who had recited it through their entire life to please.

"I know," she replied with haste before recognising her mistake.

But Malfoy only offered her a small smile in response.

"You're probably wondering how long I'll stay here," he continued. She frowned; she hadn't even given it a thought. "Or not," he added upon seeing the look on her face. He then smiled fully. Malfoy wouldn't be considered classically handsome, Ginny thought, but he wasn't by any means undesirable. He had steel-grey eyes that did not display his private emotions. He had never been an image of a pretty boy in Ginny's mind, and tonight was no exception. Right then, however, he evoked a tranquil river flowing freely, undisturbed. It was as if he had all the worries in the world yet nothing bothered him. He seemed to be floating through a lethargy that she couldn't understand or explain.

"You're not very talkative, are you?" he asked before sitting down at the candle-lit table. Ginny was still standing still, regarding him as he spoke. "Very much a contrast to the Ginny Weasley in her school days. Wouldn't shut up about The Boy Who Lived, but I think that's what made her so…"

Ginny raised her eyebrows in deep curiosity as he searched his words.

"… herself." He laughed lightly. "Strange, isn't it? I resented her for being so bloody obsessed and then one day she… matured, I guess, and Saint Potter wasn't so much of a Saint anymore. And that was that." He turned in his chair so he could see Ginny in the light more clearly. "You resemble her so much, it's unbelievable. Polyjuice isn't supposed to make someone seem so real. I should know. I request her often enough." He sounded so distant yet his words touched her. Could he really tell?

Her heart fluttered heavily when he stood back up. Silently berating herself for coming, she considered running out the door and never coming back, but something kept her in place.

His hand reached for hers. A jolt of electricity shook her as she fought to regain the stability of her heart rate.

Malfoy's eyes were mostly expressionless. You could see them shoot firebolts when he was angry; you could see a glint of malice when he was up to something. At least from what she recalled from school. She had had no idea until now that he could be something of a gentleman if he so wished.

He looked down at their barely touching hands and showed no emotion. His head moved again and this time stupor, along with surprise, disgust and a certain sense of pleasure, reigned in her mind as his pale lips came down to meet hers.

"But you've captured her essence," he murmured.

Ginny remained silent, too scared for words.

Malfoy slowly slid his hands over her bare skin, and she felt the exaltation of being touched by a stranger in places she had never thought could arouse her so. He roamed over her cheeks, her neck, her shoulders, her back, her waist, her breasts. All during his exploration she had closed her eyes. No one had ever been so precise yet so random. It wasn't calculated, nor was he rough in any way; just those slim fingers touching smooth white skin. It was… to say the least, it was an experience she was ready to have again. Her breath caught in her throat when he reached for the hooks that held her top together. But he did not remove it like she'd assumed any man would. Instead, he let his hand linger there a little longer before drawing away.

Ginny remained standing, still watching him as he stepped away. His gaze was on her again, studying her features. He did not speak, merely stared, as if he wished to communicate something to her that she did not understand. Then he shook his head sadly and pulled back in, holding her loosely in his arms.

"Time is our worst enemy," he murmured to himself.

For the second time Ginny opened her mouth to speak. "What do you mean?" she asked out of curiosity.

He frowned and waved his hand in dismissal. "Don't you worry about that."

This silenced Ginny. After all, he was the client, and she was merely a "Polyjuiced" Ginny Weasley prostitute. She parted her lips and met his eyes. "What is your deepest desire, Mister Malfoy?" she asked coyly.

Malfoy put his finger to her lips to quiet her, his icy gaze never wavering from her face. She swallowed with difficulty. The sound of an interrupted moan disturbed her thought. A Silencing Ward had just been activated. Suddenly she felt the intensity of his stare and a cold sweat erupted from her pores as a sense of fear overtook her. Her eyes darted about the room, but when he lifted her chin, she had no choice but to look at him. He was leaning down, pressing his lips against hers, and she felt his hands come up to graze her hips.

Ginny's mind reeled, torn between harsh reality and the intimate sounds of their hearts beating against one another. She stepped back, drawing him along towards the bed, and twisted her mouth free, panting as the air around them seemed to grow thicker with each breath she took… thicker with her own fear.

She sat down on the bed and looked up into Malfoy's placid eyes. Why couldn't they brook at least one emotion that would prove his culpability? Why was he so calm when she wanted him to show her something, anything? Violently, she pulled him to her and pressed her lips to his, biting hard on his bottom lip. How dare he? How dare he use her body so without a hint of remorse?

He crashed on top of her. She seized him between her legs and drew her wand out from underneath the garments of her skirt and murmured a spell. His clean white shirt disappeared into thin air. Her fingers quickly crawled up his back. She dug her nails sharply into his pale pallid skin, awaiting a reaction from his part.

But when she looked back up into his face, Ginny realised with a certain surprise that he had closed his eyes. She stopped short in her tirade and cradled his pale face in her hands. His eyes fluttered open and he pulled back suddenly, pressing his hand to his head as if in pain.

Ginny sat up, flustered and heart beating fast. "Did I – "

"I keep having to remind myself that they're not real, any of them," he cut in, seemingly in his own realm.

She looked up, suddenly interested. "Who?"

He had his back turned to her and suddenly whirled around, staring at her with a glint of anger in his steel-like eyes. "You're not her," he said at last.

Ginny wanted to smile triumphantly. She crawled like a cat to the edge of the bed where Malfoy sat looking at an enchanted portrait of a witch enthralling a man with her naked beauty, and softly snaked her hands up his back to rest them on his shoulders, molding her barely clothed body to his.

"We've but half an hour left before the effect wears off. Teach me how to be like her," she whispered. She was so close that each word gave way to a breath of air that tickled the skin on the back of his neck.

Malfoy turned his head, searched her eyes and as if deciding something, captured her lips and closed his eyes in quiet rapture before slowly turning his whole body around and easing them both down on the soft mattress. His free hand easily drew out the wand in his pocket. He whispered an undressing charm and found red lace knickers and a bra underneath her clothes. He tucked his wand away and closed his eyes again as his mind drank in the woman before him, offered to him like a wildflower to the wind.

Ginny, following his lead, closed her eyes, entangled her fingers in his silvery blonde hair and welcomed his warm lips on her ivory skin.

* * *

Ginny swallowed a shaky breath as her back touched the cold mahogany of the door. She stared at an empty space as the flimsy curtains let in a breeze of cool summer night air.

She shut her eyes tightly and tried to wash the night's events out of her mind. She had almost forgotten that she was supposed to be her doppelganger. Instead, she had delighted in Draco's fierce possessiveness and had almost been too careless. Time would have ticked by and he would have then figured out that she wasn't a Polyjuiced prostitute. How could she have been so careless?

She pushed herself off the door and exhaled slowly but steadily, grasping the twenty Galleons tightly in her hand. That was what it had been: a little bit of flesh in exchange for a little fortune. She couldn't deny that there had been no real exchange, but she also couldn't deny that the fact that he had been gentle to her was rather touching. She couldn't remember ever having seen him at Hogwarts without that nasty sneer of his on his lips, hurling insults at Ron or Harry (usually both), and calling Hermione a Mudblood. Therefore, meeting a whole new side of him had made him seem much more approachable and much less of a prat.

Pondering over all of this, she clasped her brassiere together and pulled on her knickers, thinking of all the probabilities. Either he was out for a vengeance and somehow wanted to let it all out on "her" weekly, or perhaps he had just matured and somehow wanted to explore new depths with her body… which all seemed a very strange concept to her and her skin crawl with unease.

Ginny remembered all too damn well her collision with Ron last week. She had been on her way to her flat from work, just a few doors away, really. She remembered being surprised to find Ron on her path, pacing back and forth and looking toward one of her windows. Calling him out, she'd seen him whirl around, nearly giving himself whiplash, and then she'd seen his look, hadn't understood. Disgust. Shocked – she'd never seen Ron give her that look – she'd started stammering a query, but he'd only walked past her, muttering a snide remark under his breath. But oh, she had made out the essential: "Polyjuice", "brothel" and "selling your body to whomever you please." The power of his invective had blown her away with its contempt.

That was when she'd noticed the pattern. Other people had been giving her second glances lately, though she'd brushed it off, thinking that maybe they liked her looks or recognised her from her job. After all, she'd been working first as a rookie reporter at the Prophet, then had soon stepped up to senior editor. People recognised her all the time from her reporter days. They talked behind her back and she was comfortable with it, knowing any publicity was good. There had been rumours at the Prophet. She'd heard them. Thought they were jokes at her expense. No one liked such a quick sharp-shooter.

But Ron? And such negative remarks? She'd decided to investigate. Why the change? Who was telling such lies about her? Didn't Ron know she had more self-love than that? She'd prove him wrong, show him and whoever else was in on that stupid rumour that she wasn't such a… such a scarlet woman. By any means, she wasn't a prude, but that… that was too low.

Quickly, she'd found a lead. People whispered about a Polyjuice brothel owned by a rich family whose son was a regular there. Then she'd heard the Malfoy surname, and had a pause. Found out Draco was the rich family's son. Then – bloody bastard – discovered he was the one having girls Polyjuice themselves into her. Seen red. Had he been the one spreading the rumours that she was a floozy?

Earlier, when she had seen Malfoy enter the room, she'd wanted to believe it was him because of all the hatred he'd communicated to her, all the passionate verbal affliction she'd had to endure in school. Now she had to reason with herself: he couldn't be out to torture her mind or her body. He'd been so gentle tonight, and yet… he'd also been fierce and demanding, though she hadn't felt the need to stop anything.

Yes, she would have known when to stop.

Yes, could be the one behind the Polyjuiced Ginny Weasley prostitutes. He could be the one behind it all, but every time she tried to wrap her mind around the idea…

She shook her head. No. Yes. No. Oh, why couldn't it just be simple?

"Excuse me?"

Ginny whirled around, startled by the new presence, and faced a small rounded man at the door who looked very much out of place with his growing pepper and salt beard and large glasses. A firsttime… client.

"Sorry," she said, slipping her shirt over her head, quite certain that her cheeks must have looked like blazing fire. "I lost track of time. I must… be about to change back. I'll take my leave, then." With that, she hoisted her skirt over her hips and jumped into her boots, storming out and leaving the poor man speechless.

"But – aren't you Tracey Davis?" the man cried desperately.

Ginny, already halfway through the hallway, grimaced. Mistaken for that Slytherin cow. At least Draco had some resemblance of taste.


	2. Chapter 2: One Million

Author's Notes : Thanks to everyone for the warm comments. I do have to say that I am enjoying writing this story. Yes, even if it takes me forever to update. By the bye, sorry about that. I'm a university student since… this year. The past three have been crazy, and I have a feeling that the next two and a half years will be even nuttier. Pray for me, guys.

_**SINNERS: one million**_

_January thirtieth, 2007_

Ginny Weasley rubbed her fatigued eyes and glanced outside. Everything was plunged in pitch darkness. She stretched her long freckled legs underneath her desk and yawned. It surely must be midnight by now, the redhead thought with a long groan, thinking of the long day tomorrow.

"Ginny! Merlin's beard, what are you still doing here?" cried the tall blonde responsible for the fashion column and advertisements in the_Delphys_ magazine.

Ginny sighed and mumbled weakly, "I'm wondering myself."

The other waved in amused dismissal – as if Ginny's staying way overtime was anything to be amused about! "No matter," she said excitedly. "Listen, we've just received the prints for the_Saffran_ advertisement in this month's issue," she continued, brandishing a folder full of photographs, no doubt, with a grand flourish of her hand.

"_Saffran_?" Ginny asked with a perplexed frown. The _Saffran_ clothesline had refused time and again to donate money for the magazine when it had just started issuing its first exemplary. "They actually want to advertise? Wow, I'm…" Shocked would be an understatement. Furious as well. Why the hell were they agreeing now? Oh, because we've gone world-wide in less than three years, her internal cynic retorted, crossing her invisible arms in a huff. "I'm shocked," she finally said, a little between clenched teeth. "How did you work this one out? Do you have contacts that I never knew about?" Oh, wouldn't that be grand?

Surreptitiously, Ginny inspected the blonde belle for any signs of an evening tryst.

No such luck.

The blonde belle took the liberty of sitting down dramatically on Ginny's desk. "No, it's funny actually. I called them months ago and they just now accepted to promote. But – I've to tell you, these photos are –" She paused thoughtfully, fanning herself theatrically. "They're absolutely vibrant. Like, you could actually reach out and touch the models. And, Merlin, they have some of the best models in the industry. The stance, the looks, the…"

"Body?" Ginny offered patiently. She was used to these sudden outbursts of passion. She smirked crookedly at the girl before standing up and shrugging into her yellow robes, a gift from her mother when she had learned about Ginny's wish to create a modern day magazine for the modern twenty-some witch – her grand dream, _Delphys_. Grabbing her tote bag by its thin string, Ginny stared back at the young nineteen year-old witch and waited for the girl to say something else. There was always something she needed to say when she came into Ginny's office sans appointment.

"Could I ask you something?" the fashionista finally asked in a tiny voice, finally, before Ginny could just shrug and walk out of her office. As it was, she stayed rooted to her spot in the doorway and faced a very pleading advertiser. "See, I've been leafing through these all night and I can't find the perfect advertisement because, honest to goodness, they're all absolutely fantastic and gorgeous and… and perfect. Gods, _really_perfect. And could I please ask you to –"

Ginny snatched the folder from the youngster's hands and continued the other's line of thoughts, "Check them out so I can use my veto? Sure thing," she assured. "As uber editor-in-chief, it is my duty to help fashion columnists in need. Although, I must say, I've never read that anywhere," she added with a little leer.

The girl batted her eyelashes and broke out into a grateful smile. "I love and worship the ground you walk on, Ginny Weasley." Yep. Complete with the whole bowing repeatedly.

Ginny clucked her tongue and shook her head at the young woman before exiting the building that had taken months to completely own. She Apparated in the corridor just outside her flat, folder tucked neatly under her armpit and tote bag hanging on her shoulder. Not for the first time, she wondered just how it was that Claire Trent had fallen into her employment without causing her a number of headaches due to her bubbly personality… but then again she supposed she needed people working on the magazine that weren't totally anti-social and incapable of having fun. She supposed that was why she'd kept Claire so long.

Ginny hung her robes on the peg near the door once inside her flat, and marched toward the earthly green living room, Summoning a coffee mug before dropping down onto her couch. Cuddling comfortably in her makeshift nook under a warm afghan, she opened the folder to the first photograph.

_Whuh!_ She hadn't seen _that_ one coming!

Draco Malfoy had been a _Saffran_ model for almost two years now and was famous worldwide for his mysteriously infatuating looks. Graceful yet deceivingly so, she'd learned firsthand what his body was made of. Warm, liquid-solid steel, soft to the touch and powerful to the feel. His skin would make gods pale in envy; his eyes, depthless and made of mist, could make one succumb to the unknown; his lips, chiseled and generous, drew fire and need in their midst.

She honestly_didn't_ want to remember.

Ten pictures showed both of them together. Draco Malfoy and some luscious female model carved to perfection down to her toes:

Snuggled spoon-like on a little white bed, him overlooking her in _Saffran_ WizWear Jeans and her in snug little low-cut _Saffran_ WitchWear, his arm hiding the bits of skin that were bare;

Standing on a high cliff with a visible flimsy white drop behind them over the blue skies, no emotion showcased on either of their pale, perfect faces;

Plastered to a wooden door, his arms extended to grasp the door top, him dressed in faded blue jeans and her in a short white skirt with a rim of country-looking flowers and a white laced-up top that let her ample bosom spill out;

Sitting down on a simple brass bench, her sitting sluggishly (and sluttily!) atop him, facing him in faded low waisted bootcut jeans and a sheer lacy pink bra, him wearing a white shirt and boxer shorts;

Ginny threw the _damn_photos to the floor.

In all of her years of magazine editing, Ginny Weasley had never been so thoroughly thrown off her guard. But these were beautiful. Real. Human. _Fleshy_. Everything she wasn't. S_exy. Luscious._ Wanted.

Draco Malfoy was teasing her from behind the glossy film sheets. And he probably knew it. Bastard.

---------------------------------------------

_June second, 2007_

The gown was literally killing her, slowly, excruciatingly. Every single step taken with it threatened to make her lose her breath like a swooning primadonna, let alone sitting, which was out of the question. A deep, rich material of forest green and golden accessories adorned the ivory of her skin and her neck. The frock may be thin, but she believed she was _this_ close to not believing she was thin anymore.

The room was stuffy despite its rich grandeur. Celebrities around the world had set foot in the Hôtel Vasseaux in London, a hotel built by French wizards for the magical elite. The magazine _Delphys_ was holding a ball there tonight in honour of its sixth year in circulation. Ginny supposed she could whoop a little more heartily.

Ginny stopped a maître d'honneur and glumly took two hors d'œuvres, hurriedly walking away from the crowd as a hip song began playing -_Les Argonautes_, she reckoned, was the band's name. Normally she liked them.

There were so many people here tonight, it was utterly astonishing. Ginny had never hoped, six years ago, that the magazine would sell over one million copies a month just like Honeyduke's merchandise with Hogwarts's students.

So she sipped some fizzy champagne, looking over at the numerous guests. Editors, financiers, photographers, columnists, marketers, models from past issues… She just couldn't avoid them, really, when she was essentially the one throwing the party.

The ambience was very kitsch - it couldn't have been otherwise, what with her clientele - however Ginny could tell that everyone was having a blast on the dance floor, lest they deny it. The place smelled like sweat and joy, and for a change Ginny felt disgusted.

The fact that she'd had to put Draco bugger-fucking Malfoy and Viviane Nündschnuk on the front cover after so many demands from their avid readers after the publicity stunt had made her blood boil very dangerously. Even more photographs had come in from _Saffran_, as well as a nod for a special interview. _Saffran_, who couldn't say no to another bout of publicity. Sure. Ginny had been _this_ close to saying No. Bloody. Way.

Snorting to herself, Ginny smoothed down her frock over her hips and grabbed another glass of champagne after discovering with a startle that she'd been oblivious to everything else. More than a little bit dismayed, she set out toward the dais where the band leader recognised her and smirked before speaking in a loud baritone. "M'zelle Ginevra Weasley would like a word with her audience tonight."

Ginny snorted a little chuckle and picked up her dress as she stepped onto the dais, at once captivating every present soul's attention to her dazzling chic. Yes, she'd dressed to impress. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," she started, her brilliant noir de jais lined eyes capturing several men's eyes. Impress, she did.

"It is my pleasure to welcome you to this cocktail to celebrate the six years of pleasure we at _Delphys_ have had in keeping it fresh and intelligent for those of us who feel that the modern witch and wizard should expect more from the world. More ink spilled in honour of those who've made a change, more photographic evidence that the modern wizarding world has indeed matured well despite the few disputes and often quite horrifying acts of violence, more humanitarian love, more of all that we want and need to read and see."

Ginny took a refreshing breath, her eyes sweeping over the dizzying masses. "When I created _Delphys_… I'll be quite frank when I say I did not expect the flood of money and letters and… oh my, I thought when it became positively overwhelming, what do I do _now?_" She smiled to herself, remembering those early days of madness and feeling like it needed a pause to emphasise the kind of stress and insane fun she'd had to endure those first years. "Well, I said, let's just keep doing it."

Suddenly she worried her bottom lip, knowing it had come to the part that she dreaded most. In her mind's eye, she was rolling her eyes like she did when she knew exactly what her mum was going to reprimand her with. "Without you - without the editors, the gorgeous models, the marketers, and everyone working behind the scenes - _Delphys_ wouldn't have happened. Without you, _Delphys_ would be a crumbled dream. So here, tonight -" Her voice carried off as she looked at her crowd and felt her eyes widen, almost _pop_out of their sockets. _What_was Draco Malfoy doing at her party? Who the hell had invited him?

Her interruption had caused quite a confusion, she realised as her eyes swept once more over her audience. Some patrons had narrowed their little raven eyes in obvious delight at her stumble – the opposition, she reckoned. Others were clucking their glasses against their fingernails, apparently bored out of their skulls now that she'd choked on her words. And then she saw Malfoy, smirking amusedly at the scene as he handed the maître d'honneur his rich dark cloak and expensive gloves. She felt the irrepressible urge to vomit when Viviane Nündschnuk – ah, that was the model's name – wrapped herself sinuously around his elbow, smiling that exotic vixen smile, all the while succeeding in looking thoroughly annoyed to be here of _all_earthly places. If only Ginny wasn't up here on the dais, she knew exactly what she'd like to do to her pretty neck…

Casually shaking herself up before she lost her audience entirely, Ginny smiled at the remainder of her respectful attendance and finished her speech without too much of a tangle. "So here, tonight, I pay heed to you, kind people, who believed in this small project of mine that took years to build and solidify. Thank you from the bottom of a dreamer's heart." _That_, she meant to those dears who still listened to her.

And with that, she promptly stepped off and paid no attention to the polite applause that followed her address. And walked off outside on the grand hanging balcony to work some steam out of her system. And certainly _him_ out of her system.

It was a quiet July night. The London sky was dark and clouded, the only light provided by the nearby street lamps on the quiet road and the fireflies making a visit to her corner of the darkness to radiate softly with a quietening quality. The air smelt of mist and the fragrant bed of flowers nearby. It felt peaceful. Serene. Tranquil. Qualities that often lacked in Ginny's quick-on-the-loop life. A dreamer, she'd called herself inside. It had been a while since she'd last indulged.

She breathed in deeply, filling her senses with the invigorating magic the herbs and plants provided. She felt her skin tingle, her heart hum with the night's soft thrumming, beginning to feel all of her aches move past. Her eyes had begun to droop when softly, out of nowhere, a man's voice called out to her: "I guess you were not too keen on throwing a cocktail after all."

Ginny jumped and whirled around, caught mid-breath. And then, _then_, her eyes hardened and she frowned. "What do you want?" Specifically, why wasn't his pet slut around him?

Draco laughed and slowly leaned backward onto the exquisite Victorian-inspired railing, perfect with flowers twined around the bannister. He drew in a deep breath, staring out at the sky. "It was stuffy in there," he replied softly for an excuse, then gazed back at her, elliciting all kinds of unwanted responses. "You look lovely tonight."

For a moment she couldn't find her voice. Then her eyes narrowed. "You digress, Malfoy. What do you want?"

He shrugged noncommittally. "I was invited here by your fashion columnist. Trent… Claire Trent, I think?" Ginny would of course fire Claire ASAP. "She called my agent and specifically wanted Viviane and me to make an appearance, however small it could be, so that she'd, er, 'die happily' I believe were her words."

Ginny groaned inwardly. "That'd just be Claire. I hope she hasn't been too bothersome. She can be quite a handful sometimes," she added knowingly in a sour tone. _Die happily_. Of all things to say to a male model… to Draco Malfoy. _What a fangirl_…

"Oh, no, she's quite lovely in fact." He trailed off and breathed in deeply again, and she noticed that he didn't really carry that aura of 'star arrogance', as she liked to call it, that so many people in his position assumed or lived by. After several moments of slightly companionable silence, he started again. "Congratulations with this dream come true, by the way. It must be quite an achievement at such a young age."

She snorted. "Malfoy, I'm not a child, I'll have you know. I'm only a year younger than you."

"I didn't mean it that way."

_Sure you didn't_. Time decidedly did not change people, despite whatever… _thing_ they'd shared that unspeakable night years ago when she was _young_ and _stupid_ and… decidedly stupid. What had she hoped to accomplish? She'd met with some weird, completely un-Malfoy Malfoy and made love to him on a whim and – okay, _liked_ it. Or rather, never felt anything like it. And so what… _that_ made her utterly _sick!_ Unnerved by her internal wackos going nuts and wanting turns saying_noyesno_, Ginny picked up her skirt and started down the steps leading to the hotel's French gardens. There, she hesitated a moment, just enough to turn back slightly. Watching him thoughtfully – she was thrown by the way he regarded her with an intense gaze – she threw pointedly over her shoulder, "Malfoys don't mean a lot of things." She tried to add a lot of contempt to the word 'Malfoys', but failed somewhat.

She was losing nerve, that's what was happening to her. Her voice lodged in her throat – she'd _never_ been looked at like that – and she started turning, getting away, before she lost her mind and did something she'd _really_ regret – Merlin knew what. She had thought he'd take the hint, maybe leave her well enough alone – _Jesus_, she was a mess – but before she could reach the Borgia roses near the imposing French doors, Malfoy was at her tail, grasping her wrist and yanking her neatly around. There was some kind of fury behind his gaze, something that truly frightened-aroused her. She groaned. He growled, "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

She swallowed thickly, remembering for the first time in many years that Draco had a nature about him that could very well be destructive. He _knew_ how to use it. She stared blankly – what should she do? She tried wringing her hand out of his grasp, but it was vice-tight. Ginny suddenly tasted fear in her throat. "Please, just…" She worried her lip, biting back the tears from the pain he was causing her.

He looked down at their hands and released her quite suddenly, as though burnt by a blazing fire. "Sorry."

Ginny retrieved her hand and nursed it. Gods, she'd undermined his strength. But, determined not to let his… his _arrogance_ touch her, she strode off to another corner of the garden. Once again he caught up, brows furrowed worriedly.

"I didn't mean it at all. Sometimes it just… it happens. After the war, I –" He interrupted himself, as though not quite sure he wanted to go there. "I do things, sometimes. It's not me, or rather, it's more an old version of me, and sometimes I expect people to react the same way they did back then. But it's not me, Ginny, I wouldn't –"

"Don't call me Ginny."

He truly sounded and looked baffled. "Excuse me?"

She looked him dead in the eye for the first time that night, she noted rather triumphantly. "You think you're so clever, Malfoy. You could have all the girls you want, and yet you always come for the same? What is _wrong_ with you? Can't you see that you – oh, bother, forget it."

If possible, Malfoy looked even more confused. Possibly provoked even further by her flushing face. "What on Earth are you on about?"

Ginny groaned frustratingly – at herself – before turning away and staring resolutely at the rosebed. Several names of potentially harmful hexes went flying through her brain, each so much the better than the other, yet she refused categorically to play into his manipulative hand. And yet, all at once, she burst – hard. "I could easily break your reputation, Malfoy. I know some nasty things about you, and you may not like me to tell."

He chuckled amusedly. "What? That I was in Slytherin and made everyone's life a living hell?" he guffawed. "Go ahead, see if I care…"

And that, Ginny decided, was why she hated the stupid git. _No, you great oaf_, she fumed. _You're a bloody Polyjuice pervert, _that's_what you are._

There was a great, sharp intake of breath. She realised it was his.

Oh. Circe. She couldn't have said that out loud, could she?

Sweet mother of Merlin, she did.

Well, the cat was out of the cauldron, or however that phrase went.

Draco… took it better than she'd expected, in retrospect. He could have bashed her in; he could have screamed 'til high Hell on; he could have_killed_ her. Yet, he didn't. He _didn't_ take it all in stride, though. Everything became quiet around them – or was it just Ginny? There might have been a chill in the air, too. Or maybe it was hot; she couldn't feel her face. And she might have whimpered and kicked herself _many_ times in her mind's eye. No, that she did do for certain.

But Draco? Oh, he sure as hell went rigid. His face blanched; his voice went pale, low, hoarse. Merlin's beard, the man had feelings… "H – how did… What – Who told…?"

Ginny felt weak as the memory of that one time she'd bared her whole being to a man who likely never cared came flooding back to her, clear as crystal. How sick of her, to fling that back into his face when he'd been more than she'd expected – perhaps ultimately uncaring of her or any of those girls, but _feeling_. She replied, her voice cracking with apprehension, "I know you came for me… every time."

He stepped away as though slapped and cursed at once. "H – how…" Suddenly he didn't look the glorious supermodel part anymore. He looked more like an older version of that miserable young man who'd paid whores to wear her skin and shape because he probably didn't know any better. She should have been disgusted then; she should have been disgusted now. She wasn't.

Ginny trapped her bottom lip between her teeth, knowing full well that she'd reached risky ground. Suddenly her face felt far too hot for description. She swatted at a flyaway lock all the while swallowing thickly. _He ought to know_, she rationalised with herself. Now, perhaps, was the time. "I was there once."

She heard a sound and looked up through thick eyelashes, preparing for the insults. Instead, he seemed frozen in place. "You – but – how did…" She realised he was racking his memory for a piece to fall into the puzzle. Suddenly the memory clicked into place and his eyes locked onto hers. "Oh, Merlin, that was you…"

Her heart sank. Instead of feeling mischievous at how she'd triumphantly pinned him, she felt vile, more disgusted with herself for wanting to feel so victorious.

"I thought… I thought it was… one of the… whores," he finished lamely. "If I'd known… I wouldn't…"

She looked up, remembering how kind and humane a young man he had been, and felt her heart wrench once more. Shivering, she asked softly, "Why me?"

He exhaled loudly, wringing his perfect hands. And suddenly it didn't matter anymore. He was the same young man who had sought her out of a million other girls he could have had, for reasons as yet unknown.

"I don't know," he said lamely, leaning heavily on the low railing. "It was really just an accident at first. I wanted her to be Parkinson at first, shake her up a bit because she'd be on my arse day and night trying to weave her way into my robes. You're not really supposed to harm the whores, but everyone makes exceptions. My father was the owner; I had every right. I wanted to use them to the maximum of their extent." His mouth twisted in a wry smile. "Parkinson had been fighting with you that day, it seems."

Oh, _right_. "I was working with her at the _Prophet_ two years ago," Ginny added. "We did always fight about our artistic differences."

Draco nodded absently. "She harried me off. Kept trying to force her way into my affairs. Mother approved of her, of course, she was good blood." He snorted. "One day I plucked some hairs off her robes and didn't really check the colour because I expected them to be hers. Turned out they were yours," he said finally, turning a melancholy eye toward her.

Ginny bit her cheek. "But _why_ did you keep doing it?"

He stared a little longer, making Ginny self-conscious in her little gown, then shook his head. "Honestly, I still wonder," he whispered to himself, then sighed wearily. "I never did – I mean, I only touched them."

She furrowed her brows, still uncomprehending. "Why did you go further with me?"

That was when his gaze went to the marble floor. "You were… different… better."

Ginny had never expected this straightforward answer. Perhaps _you amused me_ or _I despised you_. Regarding him with a new air, she started, "You seem… better, too."

But before he could respond, a new exotic voice drifted to them. From above on the balcony, the sexy Brazilian vixen who'd been attached to Draco's arm during Ginny's speech called out his name, two glasses of champagne tinkling in her long manicured fingers. "Draco! Come, Bernardo is speaking of a new contract."

Draco groaned, his shoulder blades working. Finally he turned to Ginny exasperatedly, though apologetically.

"If you must go…" she said noncommittally, not quite sure in fact if she wanted him gone or not. Perhaps gone was better, she tried to reason.

"No…" he whispered with a grimace.

"No?"

"I don't have to renew that bloody contract. Anyone would take me."

"How arrogant," she remarked coldly.

He looked up and smiled as if she'd given him a compliment. She honestly did not understand the man. "The deal was one year. With Viviane. One year of some of the most atrocious womanly whinging I've ever heard. And the damn rumours… Did you know we're having twins?" He snorted. "It's such a farce! Bloody hell, I don't want to have to work with her again."

She pursed her lips. "Now you know what Harry had to go through everyday._Has_to go through," she corrected herself.

"Ah, yes, Saint Potter," he said dryly. "I reckon I owe him some respect, don't I? For saving the world?"

Ginny narrowed her eyes owlishly, one eyebrow raised in surprise. "You really _are_different."

He shook his head, then lifted his hands in a look-at-me manner. "Better."

She chose to ignore him. "I didn't want to believe it, when we…" She flushed, frustrated that she wasn't able to speak of sex with him, of all people. How was she able to talk about it to anyone and everyone but not to him? Heaven knew she was no saint of the matter. Bravely, she ploughed through. "I thought it was a plan, some kind of scheme."

"I was insane," he said simply, not the least embarrassed it seemed. Then he winced. "All right, I was a little _unbalanced_. I never would have hurt you, though," he added softly.

She nodded her agreement. "I know that." And damn, but she was beginning to like Malfoy.

He raised his brows in surprise. "You do?" he said, pushing himself off the railing and stepping out of the shadows he'd been playing in.

She flushed, again, cursing herself for her foolishness. It wasn't as if making love to him had left her broken – no, it had left her feeling… Oh, she would rather not go there. "I can believe that. You were… you were a gentleman, Malfoy. A girl doesn't forget that," she said softly.

A new light seemed to play in the depth of his irises. They lit up as he smirked obligingly. "Was I really?" he asked huskily, drawing nearer until he was just in front of her, invading her breathing space. How did he get there, she wondered idly, then realised she'd just have to quit thinking as she stared at the lips that had, almost seven years ago, ruled her body and soul. At once she felt a strange longing, a ghost of that long-ago discovery and need. Words couldn't form in her head. Tumbling and rolling around they went. Mostly in mush.

His hands whispered over her forearms, as chills, like sparks of bonfire, shot through her veins. And then she was pressed against his hard chest, her lips a breath away from his.

"Ginny, I –" Draco suddenly interrupted himself. His eyebrows drew together as he licked his lips.

"Why did you go there?" he asked quietly. She closed her eyes. Oh God, it had come to this… the part she dreaded the most. Why, indeed, had she gone there? Thinking back, she tried to reason that she'd wanted to investigate what she'd heard suggested by a few people._Why don't you quit your day job? … You make such nice company… especially without your clothes on … _and worse yet, her brother's insult, _Selling your body to whomever you please_. That had thrown her into motion. And she'd found. And found him.

No, she couldn't explain.

Ginny brushed her nose lightly against his and gently captured his lip, willing his query to silence.

The pressure of his hips on hers increased the slightest, his hands splaying like the wings of a new butterfly. Like a man drowning and needing air to survive, he breached her sealed mouth, caressing and demanding at once, drinking her in. She tasted of cherries and ginger, so… her. In his arms, she mewled softly, pushing him away and grasping on for dear life. He was harsh, he was tender, he was everything she remembered.

Finally Ginny pushed him away with the flat of her palms, allowing enough space between them as she panted for breath. Their kiss had left her breathless. She touched her lips with shaking fingers.

Draco's fingers tingled, as if he itched to touch her there himself. Tearing his gaze away, he looked up at her, searching her eyes. "Ginny…" he started again hoarsely. She studiously averted her eyes as he closed in, pulling her chin up. Unable to resist, he dipped in and grazed her lips very quickly before brushing a thumb across the smooth, plumped skin of her lips. "Why did you go?" he asked again, softly.

----------------------------------------------------

**Author's Notes**: Well, that's that. I multiple-edited this, but this latest has been edited with various authors in mind to help me along in my writer's block. For a while during my last year in college, I was having serious writing withdrawal, but had a writer's block at the same time, so… it did not mesh well. I ended up wanting to read nonstop instead, and… I guess it helped me along just a couple of months ago. I've been taking baby steps writing fic again since. So thanks to my favourite authors!

To those of you celebrating Christmas, a very warm Happy Holidays. We had a snow storm yesterday and today here in Montreal, and it was very pretty out there. Not great going to school (late bus, etc.) but I still enjoy the scenery while I'm at it :) Enjoy, guys!


	3. Chapter 3: Two Bodies

I guess I'd like to say thanks to those of you who've been sticking with me so far. I know firsthand how annoying it is to wait for a book to come out, or for a fanfic to be updated. So, you guys rock. Yes, even those who've put me on their favourites or alerts list (or both). I know you're reading and waiting. I've had eager messages for "more, PLEASE" and that truly makes my day, even when my day sucks.

As you can see, I haven't given up on Sinners (_far_ from it). I'll always have a special place for the Draco/Ginny pairing, even after DH. They make sense, when well written, IMO.

So, in this chapter, we get hot fans self Like, smoking hot. Not saying more, but ENJOY. I've re-read this chapter twice now, and I still get the shivers. Not to mention when I was writing it. Whooo!

**_SINNERS: two (bodies)_**

"Why did you go?"

Damn, he remembered.

Ginny bit her cheeks, flushing, looking anywhere but at him. How was it even possible to hate someone you had just kissed like you depended on them to live? Oh, she was in trouble, she knew it, could smell it from here. "Everybody was talking," she started quietly, whispering almost. "I wanted to know. I walked the streets everyday and everyone ogled me as if I was dirt on their toes. I don't know how my brother knew, but he started seeing me differently as well. I had to know."

He literally hung his head. "It's all my fault. I shouldn't have kept going. I am… sorry." She could see it cost him to apologise, and felt all the more humbled by him.

Shaking her head, she placed her hands on his lean hips. "Draco, no. Don't say that. If anything, I shouldn't have gone in the first place."

Draco's gaze suddenly hardened, and he released her with a curse. Ginny stumbled, gripping a nearby potted plant to keep her balance. "What –" she managed before she was cut.

"Do you have any idea how – what I…" Draco began pacing, raking his fingers through his pale hair. Ginny watched as though detached from her body. Speechless. Gaping. Heart thumping to get out of her chest – or her throat. All of a sudden he stopped, and his eyes, those pale silvery orbs, held hers.

Her heart stopped. He stepped forward, just out of reach, but he seemed so much closer. "I never want you to say that again," he ground out through gritted teeth.

"But –"

"I don't regret a minute."

"I didn't m –"

"Dammit." Closing off the distance, he pulled her in by the neck and kissed her. It was hot, openmouthed, and messy. His tongue probed, retreated, and came back again, recalling the act of lovemaking. Ginny's body melted into him, helpless to his warm touch and his hard body.

She was suddenly pushed back against a low wall. Draco stepped into her, crowding her. She pulled him closer, greedy for more of him.

Draco's lips grazed her ear, his hot breath tickling the sensitive skin there. "Do you regret it?" he asked, his voice somewhere between a rasp and a murmur. At the sound, her core ached.

She moaned lowly. "No. Not… anymore."

His fingers dug into her skin.

"Why?" he asked, brushing his lips steadily toward her collarbone.

"It was too…" she took a shaky breath "God."

Draco pulled back slightly, smiling. His eyes sparked with mischief. "You mean good?"

"You felt real."

He delicately palmed her cheek, watching her lean into his hand. "You too."

As he kissed her again, memories of that night at the Polyjuice brothel assailed her. She arched into him, pressing her breasts against his firm chest, and revelled in the deep purr that emanated from his throat. Ginny's hands wandered over crisp, perfectly pleated fabric, yearning for a touch of skin. As her fingers found the warm nape of his neck, she sighed into his mouth, burrowing her hands deep into his hair. She loved the luxurious golden thickness that played between her fingers, and wondered what it would feel like against her breasts.

His own hands sought her breasts, her waist, and finally her arse, bringing her closer to the erection straining his slacks. They both broke apart, panting.

"You want to take this somewhere private?" he asked over her mouth, voice husky and raw from his arousal.

"What do you think?" she replied with a little twist of the mouth.

His immediate response was to haul her after him, up the steep stairs of the balcony, past it and into the bustling reception room. Laughing after him, Ginny let him drag her, watched as he muscled his way through the thick crowd toward the cloakroom beyond.

She was often stopped by guests commenting on this or that and by the fifth, she couldn't help but be amused by Draco's impatience.

"Oh my, is that Draco Malfoy with you?" one younger publicist breathed as she noticed Draco tugging Ginny along.

"Er, yes." Ginny smiled as she disappeared through the throngs, no doubt leaving the poor girl going mad with speculation about her boss… There might even be office gossip tomorrow… Not to mention photos in the _Prophet_… Draco was famous enough to warrant a full-page article…

Ginny stopped dead in her tracks.

Draco looked back, annoyed. "Would you –"

"Wait." She tugged her hand free, face flaming. "I don't want my face in the papers tomorrow."

His face softened, and he nodded. At the door, they met Viviane and Draco's agent, both of them discussing quietly. As Viviane caught sight of Draco, her face split into a perfect radiant smile and she broke away from the greying man, hips positively sashaying for Draco.

"Draco! We were looking for you. Bernardo has good plans for you and me – Oh. And who is that?" she asked bluntly, eyeing Ginny like she'd just spoiled a delectable fruit – Draco.

Draco stepped closer to Ginny. "No one you should know," he drawled coldly, then checked that Ginny was cloaked before throwing over his shoulder, "Evening."

The two of them stepped out into the cold and stopped some way past the glaring lights of the building. Snowflakes had started drifting overhead, a change from the controlled climate in the hotel's gardens. An awkwardness that had not been there before reared its ugly head, and Draco found himself hesitating as he asked, "So… you place or mine?"

Ginny's cheeks flushed, not just from the wind. "Mine."

For a few moments there was silence, then Draco glanced back at the door to the Hôtel Vasseaux. A slow smirk crept onto his face.

Ginny elbowed him. "What."

He jerked his chin. "Way I was brought up, the hostess does not leave her own party." They both chuckled. "Listen, I don't want to pressure you."

"No, it's just…" She breathed, trying to wade through her muddled thoughts. "I don't want a one-night stand."

He surprised them both with his answer. "It doesn't have to be one." Then, cheekily, he added, "It can be two, three, four…"

She snorted. "Smart arse. I didn't take you for one. I might have to re-think my decision to take you home."

"Please don't."

She whistled. "So polite… I might have to concur."

"There's a God in heaven." He stepped in, and she could see the red tip of his nose. Somehow that seemed very important. She didn't know why. Then he rested his hands on her hips as she stood there smiling like an idiot, likely. He dipped in. "You going to wait 'til we're popsicles? I don't know where you live."

She Disapparated, blushing. His hands on her were something real in that short moment of unreality. She reappeared in the middle of her living room. The entire place was dark until she lighted a few lamps, and suddenly it was like outside all over again. Here she was, baring her all to him, letting him see a slice of her life: how she lived, the kinds of furniture she owned, the colours she liked… It was… overwhelming.

"Quaint." Draco was eyeballing the décor, the fixtures, the bookshelves in the corner, the simple drapery on the window, then returned his gaze to Ginny. "And that's not a bad thing," he added pointedly.

"You want to sit?" He gestured to her couch after a moment. It was a ratty old thing she'd covered with a beautiful cream couch sheath.

She shook herself out of her torpor and shrugged out of her cloak, taking Draco's discarded one as well. "Um, no. You want something to eat? Drink? I've port, scotch, gin… water…"

When she turned, Draco was right behind her. "I'll have gin, thanks."

Numbly she ratted off where she kept her alcohol. "Um, I have to freshen up. I'll be right back. Help yourself."

Once inside the loo, she leaned back on the door, thinking _Oh God, oh God, I can't do this._ It felt strange, too intimate, here in her flat. Cursing, she flipped the light on and pushed from the door, catching her reflection in the mirror. Her cheeks were glowing, her eyes brilliant, her lips thoroughly plumped. She looked like she'd just been ravaged. As she touched her wind-blown hair and felt the bobby pins sticking out at wrong angles, she knew _that_ wasn't only the wind.

For a moment she debated over the bobby pins. Leave in or not? In the end, hair didn't matter, so she removed them. Her long fiery locks tumbled down in waves past her emerald-clad breasts. Absently, she raked her fingers through them to untangle the worst of it.

It looked fine.

Her heart thumped. Time to face Draco.

Suddenly she fretted over her hair again, wanting to look good and sexy for him. Would he like her hair like this? _He won't care_. Right. Time to go.

Ginny emerged from the bathroom, heading toward the kitchen, when she stopped. Draco, illuminated by the glaring overhead kitchen lights, was frowning absently at a glass of gin. Then he lifted it, his gaze locking onto her. The small glass stopped its journey to his lips.

Ginny fidgeted under his stare. "Is it good? I opened it for New Year's with my family, I don't know if it's too old."

He cleared his throat. Lowered his eyes to his glass. "It's good." Then deposited the glass on the countertop. "Are we okay?"

"What do you –" As he glanced pointedly behind her at the bathroom door, she understood. "Oh, I… I wanted to…" _look presentable to you_ "… freshen up," she finished lamely.

"If you're uncomfortable…"

"No, I… wanted to do this. With you. I do."

A long moment passed where he stared at her, seeming to search her for signs of apprehension, then pushed away from the counter. "All right." And he gathered her, claiming her mouth. "God I want you."

The effect was nearly immediate. Ginny's entire being hummed with want, her insecurities all but forgotten. He accepted her, he respected her, and that was far more than she would have expected from Draco Malfoy. But beneath all that well-bred cool exterior, there was warmth. If she was allowed to touch it, then she would, and without remorse.

"Draco… bed… upstairs…"

Her flat had a little panelled-off mezzanine where she slept. Alfter living so many years at the Burrow with several bedrooms on the upper floors, she'd felt a bit icky about one-floor flats when it came time to choosing her own living quarters. This one had been a choice made in heaven. Now Draco walked them toward the spiralling stairs. Ginny smiled into his mouth when she found herself suddenly towering over him, having to bend in order to keep his lips on hers.

"Don't you dare laugh at me. I am so taller than you," he growled when she began giggling from the uncomfortable position.

"I wouldn't," she said as solemnly as she could muster.

"Liar."

And so they finally made it to the elevated bedroom. "Cute," he commented at her childhood teddy bear, all torn and well-used, on the bed. "Can I toss it? I'm really not into threesomes."

Ginny allowed a pause before teasing him lightly as he bent to throw it away. "What if I am?" He tensed, eyes flaring. She lost her tantalising smile. "Um, toss it." And he did.

Before he could straighten, however, she sidled next to him and pushed him down onto the bed. He landed on his side with a surprised yelp, drawing her down with him. "Someone's playing unfair tonight…" he taunted even as he nuzzled her neck.

"Can't help it. You make me want to be naughty. Will you spank me?" she asked as seriously as she could.

Though his eyes flared again, he replied just as seriously. "Maybe. If you're nice. By the way, you are such a cock-tease."

Chuckling, she straddled him, the skirt of her gown fanning over his legs. "Let me help," she purred, running her hands down his body, deliberately skimming his bulge.

She watched Draco's eyes smolder as he sucked in a breath. "Merlin, kill me, why don't you."

She crawled up his body and settled over his straining length, catching his lips with hers. He palmed her thighs and ground her arse into him. They both moaned.

Hands flying over the back of her dress, Draco assessed its workings. Zipper. Phew. He unhooked the small safety button, then unzipped her dress, feeling like a little boy on Christmas morning. Except now he didn't get a hissing dragon replica but a real, warm, live, human-sized woman. The best gift yet. He'd had it once in the past, he should know. He knew what to expect. Couldn't wait. Plunged his hands into the bodice of her gown. Had to unplug his mouth. Breathe through it.

Ginny arched into the touch, feeling rather than seeing her nipples peak. God, his hands were warm. Soft as ever. Long-fingered. His teeth grazed her skin as he quickly pushed her bodice down. Disentangling herself, she stood over him, removing the rest for him. Baring all.

He remained rigid for a few beats, drinking her in. Lingering on prize places. Closed his eyes because he couldn't take anymore. As soon as he felt her thighs slide down on his he flipped them both over.

"God, you're so beautiful."

"You need to lose those clothes."

"They feel itchy right now," he agreed.

"Let me help." She made his jacket and dress shirt the work of a moment, lithe fingers flying over the buttons. Then she pushed it off his shoulders and got her second look at him. He was… a bit thicker than she remembered. _He must hit the gym regularly_, she found herself thinking, then latched onto a flat male nipple while she worked on his slacks. They were undone in an instant, her hands digging inside and to the back, finding flexed ripe peaches. "You work out," she remarked appreciatively.

He pecked her. "Are you saying I was flabby meat last time?"

She pecked him back. "Well, no, but I just noticed you're harder."

He howled with laughter. "Get to the front and you'll find out just how much."

She swatted him. "You just killed the moment."

"I swear! Take a look-see."

"I can feel it, thank you."

He beamed back, proudly. "Feels good, eh?"

Ginny groaned. "Men." He grinned. She pushed his fancy trousers down. And grinned herself. "Reggie Mental, eh?" she asked lightly, stroking his hard naked cheeks.

"No more so than you, darling."

Looking down, Ginny saw that, true to his word, he was also hard. Jutting up. Reaching between them, she made Draco lose his grin. He was long, thick, smooth, and as he thrusted slowly into her hand, Ginny watched his face. Total wonder. Perfect Greek god in her bed. In her hand. On her.

Soon in her.

She shivered hotly. God, she couldn't wait.

Suddenly he shifted away. "Stop. Not going to… last." His raw, sexy voice got into her system, into her head and, as he slithered down her body, she knew what he was on to, but couldn't help the surprised cry that tore out of her throat as he ghosted a finger over her slit, wanting admission. She split her thighs for him, brushing a hand through his golden hair.

Before anything else, he kissed her lingering palm, then finally – _finally_ – put his mouth to the vee of her thighs, tearing another cry out of her mouth. His tongue was marvelous, making her shiver one moment on the edge of reason, then moan and writhe the next, wanting deeper, much deeper. Warmth spilled onto his tongue and he lapped it up, his purr of appreciation a catalyser for something extraordinary and achy inside of her. She gripped her comforter, bracing herself for the ride.

Just when she thought she would explode from his ministrations, he retreated, then flipped her to her knees. "I want you like this. Is that all right?"

God, he sounded polite even when aroused beyond reason.

"_Yes_. Merlin, yes."

His hands dug into the flesh of her arse in anticipation. Her core wept for him even as he positioned himself at her entrance. Then he slid home. They both hissed. She arched. "_Draco_."

Suddenly he was pumping, slowly, delectably so. His breath was on her neck, his chest glued to her back. One hand held her hair to the side, his lips now on her nape. The thought of him so wrapped around her was hot and more erotic than she'd ever felt before. Yet, this felt… right. She could feel every stroke, every sweep, every touch. His free hand now went to her breast, stroking and kneading until the tip became rock hard between his fingers. His tongue felt hot and left her skin bereft as he swept it between her shoulderblades, purring as he did. Now his rhythm picked up as she felt him kick in her.

If she could choose a death, this was how she'd choose to bite it. Death by sex.

Draco pulled her along as he sat up, still thrusting, and she approved of the change by pulling him in for a breathy, openmouthed kiss. He tasted of gin and spices as she swept through his mouth, drawing and holding his breath. Coasting almost to a stop but for a few slow strokes, Draco explored her mouth for a few seconds, then nuzzled her neck and reprised where he'd left off. She still tasted the salt of his skin, felt the sweat of his chest on her equally sweaty back and the quick stab of him in her.

This was… heaven.

Ginny tumbled into sweet oblivion just as Draco's fingers found her nub. Crying out, she gave in to the sensations: the hands worshipping her body, the hard length her body cradled, the flesh behind her. The man behind it all. She didn't know how long it lasted, just that, as she eased back into her ody, Draco's hands were stroking her thighs. He was spent. Breathing hard.

"Hey," he said softly, brushing her hair aside and resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Hey yourself." She grabbed hold of his other hand as it traveled over her heated skin. And just held it. She didn't want to ever let go.

"You want to clean up?"

"No. I just want to sleep."

"Mm. Same here." Pulling out, he flopped down ungracefully into her bed, looking completely replete. If she hadn't already been sated, Ginny would have jumped him. Sexy smoky eyes and all. Pride swooped low into her belly. She'd done that.

Instead, she only laid down next to him, sighing when he gathered her into his arms, tucking his nose into her hair. Sleep came fast. They slept like that, sweaty limbs to sweaty limbs, like the world had stopped around them.

In a way, it had. No car sounds, no teenagers out in the streets, no windstorm disturbed them. Until the next morning.

-------------

Author's Notes: Is there more? Yes. I haven't planned anything yet, but that's one cliffhanger I can't ignore. When will the next chappie come? No idea. I do try to write everyday, but with university, it's more likely I'll be found writing essays and whatnot gags Updates come sparsely in any case, but with my novel _The Guardian Brotherhood_ coming so well together, I really can't promise anything. Just know that this business is so not done.


	4. Chapter 4: Two Timer

Author's Note: This is largely unedited because (as I'll say at the bottom) I hated writing this chapter. I can't bear to read it again. So... why am I posting? Because it's a good chapter.

Uh, I'm sure I've lost you. What I mean is, it's a necessary evil. It needed to be done. So there.

_**SINNERS: two-timer **_

_June third, 2007_

_Tack_. "It's raining men, hallelujah, it's raining men…"

Ginny groaned, stretching an arm out and hitting the damn muggle contraption. Had it been Ron's idea of fun? Yes, yes it had. She _hated_ him for it. "Ugh," she grunted before flapping back down bonelessly.

"Mm."

Eh? Her eyes snapping open, Ginny blinked at the dimness of her bedroom. "Oh!"

Draco's voice was muffled by a pillow. Hers. "Go back to sleep. It's not even morning yet."

"Would like to. I have to go to work." Still she lay in bed.

Draco's eyes were mere slits as he peered at her, unmoving. "You make one very healthy sick woman, if you know what I mean."

"I can't. i have a meeting with Satan in," she glanced at the digital clock on her nightstand, "_oh!_ An hour."

"Damn Satan." He burrowed deeper into the pillow, his back making a graceful bow.

"I already did. She came back from hell," Ginny said as she hopped out of bed and hissed at the cold draft hitting her bare skin. "Bloody hell." She shouldn't have left the comfort of her bed.

Something started ringing. "Fuck," came the expletive from the bed before a disheveled, squinting Draco emerged from within, digging into his pile of clothes that had been discarded at the foot of the bed the previous night. The phone kept chanting. Cursing, he came out holding the thing like he wanted to haul it at the wall, and punched a button. Draco was clearly not a morning person. "What."

Well, so wasn't she. Didn't they make the pair.

Ginny ducked out of her closet, grasping a terry cloth robe to her chest. Shivering, she slipped into it, feeling eyes on her. Glancing up, she saw Draco sitting up in bed, watching her intently. As he caught her eye, he held up a finger, then barked into the phone.

"What! I did not ask for a renewal… Well tell her she's delusional… _No_. I won't go to this shoot. Find someone else to… Dammit. Okay, fine. _Yes_." Snapping his phone shut, he rubbed his face then opened his eyes.

"Contract?" Ginny asked.

His eyes hardened. "Bloody piece of toilet paper." He stood naked and started pulling on his clothes from last evening. "I've to go."

Ginny hugged herself, hating that she wished they hadn't woken. "Now?"

Zipping up his pants, he glanced her way quickly before squirming into his shirt. "Yeah. I have to hit my flat first, though."

"Don't you need to… shower?"

"I'll do that there." As he buttoned up his rumpled shirt, he happened to glance her way. His expression softened. "I wish I could stay." Ginny stared at his bare feet, not trusting herself to watch him watch her anymore. He paused, the rustling stopping. "Hey."

She glanced up. "Thanks for last night," she blurted before stopping herself.

Draco's brows furrowed. "It –" He was once again cut by his phone. "_Dammit_. What."

By the time the call was over, Ginny had disappeared downstairs. Muttering a choice curse, he took the stairs down two at a time, hearing the jet of the shower running thickly. Dammit, he was out of time.

Fishing a nondescript notepad from her kitchen table, Draco quickly jotted down a note for her, hoping she'd notice it. He certainly wouldn't, but he had no time to spare.

He Disapparated.

* * *

Ginny felt numb throughout the day.

No, shitty would do it, because she felt like she'd crawled from someone's arse and died. First the thing with Draco, then the meeting with the bank shark to talk money, then the rest of the day spent ignoring the gossip in the office. And spending that time holed up like a hermit, locked in her office trying to disregard… whatever it was that made her want to scream and cry and thump.

Actually, she knew what it – or rather who – it was. Draco Malfoy, world class top model and insufferable two-time divine, erotic memory-maker.

Twice now she'd had to get up out of bed and move on, but the second time pressed the hardest on her. She'd thought she could deal the first time, and she had – after a while. Draco had been everything but what she'd anticipated that night: considerate, gentle, lonely. Just like the first time. She'd reached out then and been deliciously burned, forgetting her purpose – to shame him. Instead, _she'd_ felt shamed.

Last night, she'd wanted… God knew what. Closure? No. To feel. To be held. To know her heart wasn't deadened by work and life and work. Dear God, she hadn't truly laughed, all defenses down, since she'd brought the magazine to life. It had become her sole goal in life, and she hadn't done anything for herself since.

Jesus, was she that boring?

Ginny stared at the parchment in her hand, seeing the pictures and the cheery headlines for the finalised spread swimwear article of the summer, but registering none of it. Oh God. She couldn't compete with these girls. _Look at them, all sexy and tempting and just… bombshells. Part of his world._ How could she hope to attract him when he spent his entire days playing 'shoot' with them? No doubt there was more than dressing up going on in the changing rooms.

She'd been a pity fuck, that's what last night had been about. He had followed her into the garden, hadn't he? She'd been alone, looking for a way to get away from her suffocating life for just a second, and he'd obliged. Then left in the morning. No goodbye, no nothing, just a 'Thank God I don't have to face her when I leave'. The man should apply for an acting job, he'd win a Wizzer.

And that… that was the humiliating part. she'd let herself go freely, convinced they'd both been on the same wavelength. But his false affection had been her undoing, and _he'd_ walked away without a pang. And she? She felt worse than the first time for believing once again.

Ginny's head drooped over her paperwork. There were deadlines approaching fast, edits to be approved, printing to be done at the speed of light… and yet, she couldn't move a muscle lest it trigger an explosion that was waiting to happen. She _hated_ herself right now.

For believing in make-believe. Wasn't she old enough to know by now?

Claire suddenly popped her head inside her office, frowning at a spread in her hands. "Ginny? I thought the fashion column would have a two-columner this month but it looks like –"

Without looking up, Ginny hissed, "Get out."

Hearing the vicious menace in her boss's tone, Claire's head snapped up. Her mouth parted in a surprised 'o'. "Gin?"

"_Now._"

Claire fumbled, then exited in a hurry, barely managing to close the door soundly behind her.

The dam broke loose then as hot tears came, blurring Ginny's vision. She cried, quiet sobs racking her body as shame and self-disgust brought her down on her desk.

It was a long time before she resurfaced, and even then, she knew she must look better than she felt.

* * *

Draco's day had not improved since the morning. A repair shoot that should have lasted a mere two hours was stretched out for another hour, then another, until Draco thought his ears would smoke from the mix of raw anger and the gunshot sound of the camera. Normally he enjoyed a photoshoot as much as he could under the circumstances – once they'd shot in the middle of a Fall rainstorm and he'd been sick as a dog for days afterward – but now that was just stretching it thin.

As Draco's agent whizzed by, Draco whirled him around, getting in his face. He was known around the modeling circuit for being difficult and frivolous, demanding fresh Norwegian bottled water just for kicks at random hours of the day, but now Bernardo knew he meant business. "I thought you said this would take an hour."

Bernardo's nervous laugh was annoying, and so was his shrug. In fact, everything was annoying at the moment, but then there was no power switch, was there? "I do not know what is taking so long," the Spanish businessman said. "They said something about the lighting that is not like last time."

"Fuck that," Draco hissed. But who could help the petty minds of artists? They made superb, embarrassingly expensive art, and people spilled the cash, running over each other in their haste to get it.

Draco grunted and sat back in his corner, glowering at the petty artist who led this whole circus. There was no point in whining his head off. Draco would get out when – and if ever – it would be over, not a minute earlier. Bernardo, seizing the opportunity, skittered away, straightening his blazer as he did.

"Mr Malfoy?" Petty Artist called suddenly in that nasal pitch that Draco abhorred. "Here, please."

_Heel, please_, Draco thought even as he picked himself up. His body felt sore and tired all over, and not just from sitting all day and waking early. _That_ feeling he liked.

"The last time didn't turn out so well," Petty Artist said thoughtfully when Draco was close enough, "because there wasn't enough hunger in your –"

Draco raised a sardonic brow. "I'm hungry for a late lunch, if that's what you mean. Oh, look, it's already half past two…"

Impassive, the photographer chose to ignore him and stroked his stylish goatee. "No, I mean… carnal hunger. You want this woman," he said, gesturing toward a scantily clad Viviane standing on a bare slab.

Draco repressed a moue. "Not really."

But the artist had already dismissed Draco's less than polite interruption. "Last time, you were scowling, making it look like you were angry with her instead of infatuated."

"I was. Angry, that is. We had a spat beforehand."

Suddenly the artist's resolve broke. "I don't care," he scowled. "You get down on your knees and beg for her. I don't want a single more complaint from you. Are we clear?"

Draco grunted, crouched, and only saw Viviane, the spoiled, salacious woman who drove him around the bend in a nasty way. He'd _never_ beg for her, would _never_ hunger for her. Only one… had touched him like none had ever before, and like the bastard he was, he hadn't been able to prioritise that morning.

_You want hunger, Petty Artist? I'll give you hunger._

In Viviane's stead, there was suddenly Ginny opening herself to him, a vision in her imperfect beauty, from her ginger freckles to the mole under her left eyebrow. She bared her throat to him, her skin silken smooth all over. He watched, enthralled, as she stretched on her side for him, her propped thight creating a voluptuous mound that he desperately wanted to hike. Long, wildly erotic fire strands tumbled down over the harshness of the rocky surface, an alluring contrast of soft and rough, vibrant and dull. He wanted to sink his fingers into them, revel in the thick texture. She was… truly a woman, captured everything that had ever been female in the world, and more.

"Goodness, that's… perfect," someone breathed some ways away.

"They were made for each other."

"Look at him. I want someone to look at me like that."

Too many voices. Draco suddenly lost his concentration, and once again saw Viviane Nündschnuk, tramp extraordinaire, watching him out of her heavily madeup face with a wholly self-satisfied expression. He jerked away, and pegged the photographer with a glare. "Are we done?"

The artist and his cohort blubbered a moment. "Ah, er, yes, Mr Malfoy. We have enough, though…"

"Good. I'm out of here." Storming off the shooting platform, he ripped his things off the floor then disappeared with a snapping 'pop!'

A hush fell over the little attending crowd. Bernardo broke it with a mournful, "He didn't renew his contract."

"_What?_" the dark haired vixen on the slab screeched.

Viviane knew her career had most likely just come to a grinding halt. Draco Malfoy was the one who had propelled it a mere two years ago; he was the one who'd shot her into the limelight. To be denied now would surely crush her career to crumbs. That was what had happened to the last girl. No one talked about Sophie Beauregard anymore, even as timeless a beauty as she had been. No one, least of all Viviane, believed that beautiful, fresh-faced Sophie had wanted to go back to school in France to continue her archaeological studies after modeling. Who would want to?

* * *

"What was I expecting? Roses and chocolate? A declaration of undying love?" Ginny snorted as she unlocked her door later that afternoon. "Puh-_lease_, we're talking about Draco fucking Malfoy here." She pitched her wand on the writing desk as she entered. "Not like last night meant anything to him. I was a fleshbag who happened to come from his past. Woohoo for schoolmate reunions."

The ranting didn't make her feel any better. In fact, as she fell into her couch, she only felt like she needed to lie down somewhere for a long period of time. Goodness knew, though, that several people wouldn't let her here to rot for a while. Damn workplaces, damn families, damn…

Well, wouldn't Ron want to know she'd done it twice now with the unfeeling bastard. Hearing a harsh sound, Ginny realised it was her own hollow bark of laughter. Then she pulled her legs up and hugged them to her chest. This was a mess. _She_ was a mess… for an unfeeling bastard?

_But remember last night. He cared for you_.

Ginny wanted to cry. Wasn't he a model, trained to act? The only difference last night had been the lack of cameras.

_Oh, stop it. Pull yourself together._ She would _not_ fall prey to heartbreak, especially as there hadn't been a relationship to begin with.

Right. She'd make dinner and forget everything. Erase it, if she could, along with the memory of that night six years ago at the brothel.

With a great breath of resolve, Ginny lifted herself from the couch and tried to leave behind her worries and heartache. But they followed her like shit to shoes and could not be helped.

* * *

Draco paced. Draco _paced_.

_A Malfoy never paces_, he could almost hear his father, and wanted to throttle something, someone. What to do. He ran a hand through his hair, pausing, and took up shuffling again at a brisker pace.

He'd left his note, should leave her to decide what she wanted. Hell. He looked at the time on the modern clock, and winced. Six thirty, and then some. He didn't know Ginny's schedule, but most… normal people left work at four thirty, didn't they? Plenty of time for her to find his note and make her decision. But what if she didn't get a phone call tonight? It wasn't like she knew many muggles. Or did she? She did have that tevelision in her living room…

Shiiit, the wait was killing him.

More pacing, more pacing, more pacing.

An insistent pecking on his window startled him, and he pounced for it, untying the letter from the owl's leg feverishly. He willed his trembling fingers to steady, but _natch_. They didn't. He unfolded the letter… and groaned.

_Dear Draco Malfoy,_

_Oh my God, I am such a fan! …_

Draco balled it and launched it at the nearest trash without a second glance, shutting the owl out. Raking his hair again, he decided to make dinner to occupy his mind. Lord knew he was a horrible cook and constantly ordered in – when he was in town, that is – but he needed to keep busy and keep his mind off her. What better way than to keep his hands occupied?

He was just starting to boil the water for spaghetti when his whole body started itching. _That's it, I'm going over there_. Snapping the burner off, he suddenly paused. _And say what?_

"Hi, I was wondering if maybe last night was more than casual sex to you."

That wouldn't go over too well. Girls liked talk about feelings, didn't they? Well, that stumped him hard.

Inspiration struck at long last. "I liked waking up next to – no. I… I think you're… I enjoyed your company – dammit, that sounds like we went to the pictures. I want to see you ag – desperate much?" He laughed harshly and gripped the counter hard, staring into his reflection in the darkened window.

"What do you want?" he asked himself, searching his mirrored wide eyes. "Why do you want to see her again?"

The answer, the burning, aching answer, drifted quietly – he almost missed it – into his brain, as though someone had misted it over his mind, letting it fill with the bone-deep knowledge that came to him gradually. "I want to know everything about her. That's why," he whispered to himself, a little surprised, and suddenly let go of the counter, needing to move.

* * *

Author's note: This chapter was very hard to write. The _whole_ chapter. Not just the beginning because of how well last chapter ended and how badly this one starts, but the whole thing because it's so emotionally charged… in a pessimistic way. I hated writing this, but knew I had to to get the story moving. I personally don't always enjoy passive scenes where nothing happens, but I thought internal reflection was important in this one instance, so we (I, too) can understand the characters and what's going on in their heads. So, yeah, it was draining for me. Even the good bits (I rather liked the Draco/Viviane(Ginny) bit, it was great to write) and the end.

And so how does next chapter start? Well… I did start writing chappie 5. It's definetely a continuation of this. I think you'll enjoy.


	5. Chapter 5: lucky number three

Author's note: Woohoo! You have no idea how many re-writes I've done of this, it drove me mad! But I'm glad it's done and I actually like where it's finally going. Yay. I'm not too happy with the title (cliché alert!), but it serves its purpose somewhat. So... enjoy!

P.S. Is anyone else as ecstatic about the new adjustable width feature here and on fictionpress? Seriously, wide blocks of text are horrible for the eyes, it's something we learn in design. It makes your eyes strain. Guess why books are 6x9 (hardback), 5.5x8.25 (trade) and 4.20x6.75 (paperback - size is approximate)... although there are other book sizes, but these are the defaults. Because the eye is happy with short lines of text!

All right, design lesson over. Now it's reading time! :D

* * *

**SINNERS: lucky number three**

Some days lasted much too long, Ginny thought when the rice beef was ready. Her whole body felt like it was hung in some alternate dimension with no floor to keep her upright, no walls to touch, and no space to hold her. Discarded. She was... nonexistent, unimportant.

Dragging a serving spoon into the hot wok, she dumped some of the content in her plate and covered the vessel again. Then she walked bonelessly back to her kitchen table that was propped against the wall with its piles upon piles of notes and ancient bills she hadn't looked at in forever, mainly because everyday they seemed to grow bigger. As she looked at them for what seemed like the first time in weeks, she wanted to set fire to the pieces of paper. Maybe it'd feel good to incinerate something else than her heart. Wasn't it precious that a dead heart could kill everything else in you? She felt... nothing.

Her phone's little light was blinking, indicating that someone had called during the day and left a message. _Let me guess... my landlord? Hermione?_ Despite being a witch, Hermione had kept many muggle tendencies in her adult life. Something about the phone being quicker than owls and requiring no cleanup. She'd indulged Hermione, like many of her friends had.

Ginny punched the blinking button and leaned her hip against the table. It always amazed her that a muggle machine could replicate human voice so... well, not accurately, but well, in any case. "Gin? This is Hermione. I was wondering if you were free tomorrow evening. Ron bought us tickets to the Weird Sisters concert, but we don't have a babysitter for Rose yet. Let me know if you're available. Thanks!"

Was she available? Of course she was. Did she want to babysit a crazy one-year old child? Not exactly. But she was a great sister and friend, and an even better aunt. How could she refuse?

Reaching for the phone, Ginny shuffled a lone paper off the digits, then punched in the familiar numbers, and waited. This was what she hated about the telephone. Wait, ring, wait, ring, wait, ring. Finally, voice mail picked up with a cheery message by her brother, telling her to leave her name and phone number and that he or Hermione would try to reply as soon as possible. Then a loud beep sounded. Her cue, apparently.

"Hi, this is Ginny. I'm available tomorrow night. Just let me know what time and I'll be there. And, well, you have my number. See you." She put the phone back in its cradle as the paper she'd brushed off caught her eye. It was so tiny, so not a bill. Frowning, Ginny flattened it before her. Her jaw promptly dropped.

_Ginny,_

_My place is at the Kensington Mansions on Earl's Court. Room #3. Please._

_Draco_.

Forgoing any kind of logical thought or, bless it, her mind, Ginny clutched the paper hard in her fist and left her supper to cool on the table.

#

She stalled in front of room number three, losing the nerve she'd had at home. The large ebony door looked ominous, reminding Ginny that she was ridiculous to think that Draco truly cared enough to see her again. There was no way she fit in his lifestyle. True, she'd come a long way, but he was bred into a different world. Not hers.

_Never stopped my Black ancestor from marrying below her station._

With that thought vivid in mind, Ginny squared her shoulders… only to deflate once more.

_I can't handle lies_. She couldn't take it if this was all a ploy to embarrass her, let alone break her heart. _I don't want to hurt anymore_. Then she sighed. _Only one way to find out_.

Lifting her fist that was wrapped around Draco's note, Ginny knocked once and hoped like hell she'd made the right decision.

#

Draco paused just as he was about to turn the doorknob. Eyes widening, he stared through the peephole and sucked in a sharp breath. It was her. What to do, what to do? With quick jabbing motions, he removed his thin jacket and planted it on a random wall hook before throwing open the door.

"Ginny, hi." Manna in heaven, she was here.

"H – hi," she breathed, going rigid. "I – uh – I got your message. Now."

"I was afraid you wouldn't get it."

She glanced down at the crumpled piece of paper in her palm. "I almost didn't find it."

Draco groaned. Yeah, that would have been expected. "Next time I'll be more obvious," he vowed aloud.

Her eyes snapped to his, widening ever so slightly, but she remained quiet.

Suddenly Draco recalled his manners. Stepping aside, he gestured her in. "Please, come in." Like he'd done this so many times before.

Slowly she walked in, cautious and taking his suite in at once. Draco watched her awestruck features as she missed nothing , from the cool contemporary look of the place to the textures and colours.

"It's… beautiful," she breathed. "Very chic. Very… you." She frowned a bit at the last, as though knowing him that well was surprising. It was, in a way.

"The Kensington people decorated. I'm only renting."

She turned to smile with an understanding nod, and he had to look elsewhere and cough. "So… have you had dinner yet?"

"No… Are you inviting me?" she asked carefully.

"Yeah. I – uh,I was about to order something in. What are you interested in?" He walked toward the kitchen and produced a few flyers from a cupboard. "We have Japanese, Italian, French –"

Ginny interrupted him softly. "I made rice beef. Before I came here." She ducked her head, blushing. "Er, it's not fine international cuisine, but it's good."

His stomach growled at the prospect. "Ginny," he pitched the leaflets away, "it sounds great."

She looked up and met his eyes. "I'll be right back."

As soon as she was gone, Draco whipped out his wand and cleaned up. He took out the necessary cutlery, glasses and dishes, and a 2004 Les Valozières Bourgogne. He was just lighting up candles when she popped back in with a hot wok held in both hands. She had taken off her tailored crème jacket, displaying the pretty pink dress underneath. Draco pocketed his wand and smiled agreeably as he approached her.

"Smells amazing," he said, pecking her cheek before taking the wok from her. "Come." He led her to the lavishly laden table and deposited the pot. "Sit. I'll be right back."

Ginny gripped his wrist before he left. "Wait." Her hands were cold, moist. She was nervous. "Why?"

"Why?" Draco's mind went blank.

"Why tonight? Why last night?" Draco's body burned in remembrance, in anticipation. "Why me?"

And then his whole being froze.

There was something so revealing, so denuding, about telling her the truth. Moreover, the fact that he'd only quite recently discovered that he wanted to know her inside and out was more than he'd be prepared to admit as of yet. Hell, he'd done it all wrong, hadn't he? He knew her body more than he knew her mind. And presently, that body was tense, closing up around itself, wanting protection… from him.

"Why you?" he parroted weakly. "Ginny, I don't know."

"Was I just a trophy?" she asked suspiciously.

His eyes nearly bugged out. "What? No! Whatever makes you think that?"

She bit her lip. "Then… what? What am I to you? Why did you want to see me again?"

He wished he could tell her, but then he'd most likely scare her away.

His silence seemed to deflate her. She sighed, disappointed. "Nevermind. I'd hoped… Let's just eat and then I'll be gone."

"No."

She looked up, brows drawn high in her hairline. "No?"

Hell, he'd surprised even himself. "Please stay. For dinner and afterward. Please." Draco hated pleading, but she'd reduced him to this.

For a few instants she remained frozen just like him, looking like she'd just discovered the strangest species of lizards. "Why?" she asked in an astonished breath, as though the concept truly escaped her.

Draco did the only thing he could think of. Leaning into her, he took her mouth and slid both hands into her hair, sighing. Good God, he was lost. She tasted like wildflowers on a hot, sunny day. She felt just as warm and woman as the previous night. Perhaps even more so, he couldn't even think straight. Slowly, Draco retreated, feeling a wild sort of pride that his lips could leave her looking so pink. Her mouth was open in a speechless 'o' as she sank into her chair with a dull 'thump'.

"I don't want you to leave, do you understand?" he said quietly, and she nodded wordlessly. He felt compelled to touch her, anywhere, right now, but instead he sat across from her and reached for the wok handles.

Nothing would disturb their dinner, their first date, as it were. Not even his raging erection.

#

They made small talk – how was your day, good you, oh the usual, looks like we'll have rain tomorrow – and the rice beef was just like her mother's had always been. All in all, a very respectable evening with a respectable man in a more than respectable flat. She liked it all but… something very important was missing, and Ginny didn't know what.

Perhaps this was the real Draco Malfoy. After all, what did she know of the respectable pureblood life? What did she know of the lives of the rich and famous? She'd only known Draco in the sack. And what a truly fantastic few moments in the sack they had been. But… something was off here.

Draco forked away the last bit of passion fruit mousse in his plate and sat back to enjoy the last remnants. Then he glanced at her, and his content smile vanished. "Liqueur?" He rose, walked toward the corner of the room and reached into an armoire. There he rummaged noisily for a few instants, during which Ginny's initial unease mounted tenfold.

_He doesn't know what to do now that dinner's over. We were never that mundane_.

"I have mint liqueur, Limoncello, Bailey's…"

Slowly, Ginny joined him as he ratted off the contents of his alcohol cabinet, and lay a hand on his shoulder. Instantly, he stiffened, and let out a hoarse curse.

"Nothing, I'd like nothing," she murmured.

Draco glanced back over his shoulder, and she was seared. Smoky, dilated, nearly black, his pupils ensnared her, though he did not even move. She sensed the powerful restraint in him, and her own blood kicked with the knowledge that she could affect him so.

"What do you want?" he asked huskily.

_Oh, nothing very respectable at the moment, thank you very much… _"We need to talk."

The corners of his mouth turned down. "About what."

She noticed he hadn't formulated it as a question. "About you – and me – and what's going on." She paused, removing her hand. Like that, he turned around and faced her, looking grim. "What's going on?" she asked.

Draco's eyes veiled, becoming hard and the customary Malfoy unyielding hauteur – without the sneer. "I was under the impression that we were having a nice evening together, supper and all."

She nodded slowly. "What comes next, though?"

His hand came up to caress her hair, sliding fiery strands through his long fingers. With a strange longing in his expression, he breathed out evenly, "Whatever you want."

Warmth speared through her at his words, taking her breath away for a moment. Dear God, the man would be the death of her. Her fingers found his wrist, clasping hard. "Draco, be serious." Her gaze implored him, genuinely afraid. "I don't want… I need to know how you –"

She was cut by her own lack of mind the very instant Draco's lips touched her throat. Words became one drawn-out moan where nothing became more important than the feel of Draco on her. Then his words penetrated her.

"I don't think I can say it, Ginny," he murmured at her ear before nibbling it. "There's no way I can say it."

Despite her body's response and his obvious answer, she had to know. "What am I to you?"

He pulled back, his face deadly earnest. "Never a pity fuck. Never a trophy. Believe me, I could never lie about that," he said, pushing his lower body into her.

Ginny didn't think she'd ever tired of feeling him hard and strong against her. "But what about us?"

He captured her lips, toying and licking. "I dunno, but we fit well together, you and I, don't you think?" To support his point, he leaned into her from head to toe, inhaling her intoxicating scent.

She sighed in response. Crazy, how her body responded so genuinely to his.

Draco exhaled a shaky breath. "You remember last night? How well we fit?"

How could she forget when her body thrummed in remembrance where he'd touched and stroked? There was no stopping the liquid fire from stirring within her loins, wanting him again and again. "Y – yes."

"How I touched you? " His voice, already hoarse, broke on this sentence as he spread his hands over her belly, sweeping upward to meet her breasts. "Like now?"

She nodded, shivering. Her power of coherent speech was suddenly gone as she threw her head back and absorbed every pressure and flick into her whole body.

Draco's voice grew unnaturally strained as he pressed his mouth to the column of her throat again. "I couldn't fake that, Ginny. Never. Do you understand?"

Completely devoid of words, she couldn't help her moan as he did fantastic things with his mouth and hands. But all too soon, he stopped. "Don't," she protested feebly, groping blindly.

"I propose a date," Draco halted quickly, unbuttoning his shirt. Seeing where he was heading, Ginny went to work him him even as he backed away toward the living room. "We've eaten dinner, made small talk, talked some more. Do couples have sex on a first date?"

Her movements were jabbed as they attempted to unclothe him as fast as they could. "I dunno, but seeing as this will be our third time…"

After a moment, his shirt came off. They both attacked her dress with frantic calculation. "Yes, we've burned our bridge early, haven't we?" Draco said wryly.

"I wish we hadn't. First time magic and all."

Her dress was unzipped and fell down swiftly. "Screw the first time. We can make magic any time," he growled as the backs of his knees connected with the couch. He sat, pulling her down on top of him. "Mm, you witch, you cursed me."

Her smile was evident in her voice. "How?"

"Imperio. I can't even think straight."

"Then think loopy," she said. "Like this," she demonstrated by rolling her hips.

Draco's eyes rolled in his head. "_Merlin_."

Ginny stopped, cocked her head, and sighed dramatically. "Once again, Mr Malfoy, you're overdressed."

He looked down at his slacks and groaned. "Mind taking care of me?"

She nodded solemnly. "My pleasure." And proceeded to unzip his trousers, freeing him at last. "I like how you think," she said with a quick smile, taking him in hand.

"Mm, you too," he rasped out, palming her bare buttocks.

"Thanks." Ginny allowed herself a kiss. As Draco stealthily slipped a finger inside her labia, she couldn't help the hiss. Or her hips. They pressed back of their own accord, arching for more. "_Draco_."

"I don't think you can fake, either. Can you?"

"_No_." Ginny rested her forehead against his, aware that their breaths were both short, almost in sync. There was something empowering in her reaction to him eliciting that effect from him. "Please."

He freed her, hands going loosely to her hips, leaving her in control of any situation she wanted. Wasting no time, she sank down onto him, seeking his mouth. Draco trapped her tongue, dueling deliciously with her. "I'm no actor, Ginny," Draco breathed when she began a slow stroke.

"Could have fooled me." She licked his throat. "You're an excellent male model, Mr Malfoy."

For a few moments everything stilled as Draco stared at her, holding her hips steady. Then he seemed to steel himself. "I couldn't get you out of my mind today. Viviane is not you, but I made her become you. I saw… you."

Transfixed speechless by his admission, Ginny lifted a hand and wasn't shocked when his mouth latched onto it as if it were milk to a cat, then sought her mouth once more. A great moment had just passed between them, and she wasn't sure where it would take them, but she counted merely on instinct. Her body began the oldest rhythm in the world as they explored one another on a basic level.

"Dear God, I want you," Draco moaned into her neck, his long fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips.

A slow smile bloomed over Ginny's face as she beheld his beautiful straining biceps, holding her close and letting her feel the beat of his heart. "You have me," she emphasised by an especially delicious upstroke that tingled through her every nerve ending.

"_Mm_, more… than that."

"Tell me, Draco," she whispered hotly in his ear, whimpering when one of his hands palmed her breast, making heat zing through her. She arched, creating a different kind of friction that sent Draco reeling headfirst.

His last words before spending himself were gritted, but she heard them perfectly. They were growled possessively. "Love… you…"

Ginny touched his cheek, brushing away sweaty locks that had become matted to his forehead, and watched his features grow taut as he came. Her heart soared.

He loved her.

#

Ginny's mouth was the first thing Draco became aware of. It was attached to his neck, leaving wet and cooly-burning traces behind. Next came the realisation that he was still inside Ginny. Then the bone-deep knowledge that he wanted to stay that way forever. Thoroughly overwhelmed, he searched through his foggy memory for a time when he'd felt so richly satisfied before. None came.

How had it come to this? Weren't they just so-called enemies in school?

After a time of peaceful quiet, Draco heard a wholly feminine sigh and slowly shifted to see Ginny's face. She smiled as she met his gaze, stretching like a cat. He drank in the sight of her high breasts and glorious long hair, wanting to touch but content just to watch.

"Do you know what you just said?" Ginny asked as she lay back into him.

"What?" he said lazily.

She burrowed into his neck again, mingling her scent with his. "You love me," she imparted huskily. Then she drew back to survey his reaction to that piece of news he surely didn't remember saying aloud.

Draco became still. "Did I?"

Her smile vanished as cold dread descended upon her. _Oh no…_ In her mind she was calling herself all kinds of stupid for falling for his ploy twice. How did the saying go? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me? Yes, very definetely.

Draco seemed to snap out of whatever trance he'd been in and then looked at her, really looked, as he filled his hands with her, pulling her closer. "What about you?"

Well, he wasn't denying.

Ginny blushed to the roots of her hair and dropped her gaze. Looking at him was too hard. "It's too early for love."

Draco frowned. "Six years, Ginny. That's early?"

She disentangled herself from him and stepped away. Unable to look at him, she stared at his penis flopping lifelessly into his lap. "I don't know, I just don't know." God, what a mess.

Angrily, Draco stood up. "What's this, then? A third one-night stand? You came to me, Ginny, remember that. It wasn't just you impersonating your doppelganger in a brothel or me feeling sorry for you."

Her gaze snapped up to his, eyes wide and wounded. "You felt sorry for me?"

"No!" Draco cried, and rubbed his face with a low groan. "I wanted… you. I left you that note so I could… see you again. I couldn't… not see you, not after –" He stopped talking and sighed.

Ginny stood completely frozen, watching him and feeling her chest blow out of proportions over her heart.

"Why did you come here tonight, Ginny?" Draco asked wearily.

"I…" But she couldn't. Not to him. Not with him. It just wasn't possible. They were so antithetic. Two polar opposites. He, so remote in his feelings; and she, so prone to passion. He, a male model, for chrissakes; and she, a hardworking businesswoman. Yet just as she thought this, she realised just how shallow and unfair she was being to him. _He's not totally unfeeling or we wouldn't be having this conversation. And our jobs do not define us_. No way was she going to label them that way. 'Him' and 'her'? Sure. Beyond that was off-limits. No way.

Draco waited, tensed like a prisoner awaiting execution.

Ginny heaved a breath, her senses all ajumble, and then blurted out quickly, "Don't ask me to love you. Not yet. But I hope…" She stepped up to him and slid her hands down his hard forearms. "I want more than this, us, like this."

Through lowered lashes Draco watched her, unmoving. "So what are you saying?"

She grimaced. "I want to date you," she replied, thinking the word was so unfitting for them.

A small smile split his lips. "Good answer." And then he planted his mouth on hers, taking her breath away for the moment.

* * *

Author's note: Is there more? But of course! Although I have my little idea where this is going, I haven't started chapter 6 yet and so I can't leave you with a little teaser. Sorry!


	6. Chapter 6: Bargain

**Author's note**: Thought I'd given up on this fic? I _know_, I'm a horrible person, I let this hang for almost a whole year! Hopefully you'll forgive me?

I've sort of drifted away from HP fandom, if you noticed in recent months. There's no hate (I still love HP, though not as passionately as I once did), it was all very progressive and, I guess, natural, but yeah updates for _Sinners_ aren't my first priority. Just wanted to let you know before you ask for swifter updates. I _will_ try to produce, but my muse is uncontrollable. Not to mention I'm kind of in the middle of a writer's block. I really wanted to get this out, though, for ya'll who've been waiting forever. Gosh, you're patient.

* * *

**CHAPTER SIX: BARGAIN**

Ginny awoke to warm shivers running along her spine the next morning. Stretching luxuriously within that shifting warmth, she sighed and moved her head to allow it access to the nape of her neck even as she tried braving the dimmed sunlight filtering in through the curtains beyond the _sinfully_ comfortable bed that wasn't hers.

"Morning," a sleep-husky voice rumbled softly in her ear, the very male body to the voice pressing intimately against every inch of available skin. She could feel his every intake of breath, the peaceful lull of it imprinting itself to her own so that her heartbeat soon matched his own. "Slept well?"

Well, she'd done it, hadn't she? Slept with Draco twice in as many days and completely baffled herself along the way. "Yes," she breathed, burrowing into the plush pillow beneath her head as though it could delay her consciousness from snapping completely to life. No, moments like these should never be shattered with the call of reality.

Draco's hand spanned and stroked the length of her thigh almost absently, waking idle nerve endings all along the way. "Do you have to be anywhere soon?" he asked, his intentions quite clear not from his words but from every detail of brushed lips and (barely safely) wandering hands.

Grunting, Ginny flipped over onto her back and grimaced as she squinted into Draco's room. "Is there a clock," she demanded sourly.

The mattress dipped as Draco leaned over her to presumably check the time. "It's a little before eight."

It'd be tight but… "One hour," she sighed, then turned her bleary squint on him, coy suspicion replacing her deep disgust in the early time. "What d'you have in mind?" she breathed as he slithered over her and dipped his head to quickly lap at a budding nipple.

He resurfaced with a lazy grin that she couldn't help but mirror. "Oh, nothing much. A kiss or two…" he trailed off before leaning in. "… in a strategic place or two. And if there's still time, maybe breakfast."

"Insufferable," Ginny guffawed, slapping his cheek only half-heartedly.

"I do like making people suffer from my biting–" he nipped on her neck to illustrate the word "–wit."

Even as she rolled her eyes, Ginny tilted her head to allow him better access to her sensitised skin, going as far as to pull him flusher to her body. "I think they're merely unwilling to give in to your challenge."

"And yet here you are," Draco retorted mock-dryly. "Or maybe you _are_ willing…"

For mere answer – the git wouldn't get a verbal one, that was for sure – she slid a leg up Draco's hip, watching with fascination as his pale irises dilated and his lips parted on an exhale.

He forced himself to rally despite the temptation right in his arms. "So what are you doing tonight."

Ginny couldn't help but note that his voice had sounded too strained to muster a questioning note. "Are you asking me out, Malfoy?"

Draco's mouth twisted fairly. "Dating," he grumbled tonelessly, "that's what we agreed."

Raising a brow in dry amusement, Ginny laughed. "You don't have to make it sound like it'll kill you," she said, meaning the stark – _forced_ – soberness he'd employed for his foiled attempt at asking her out properly.

He at least had the grace to look embarrassed as he rolled off her. "Give a man a chance here," he grunted.

Aww, she'd bruised his ego, Ginny thought as something inside of her went soft and gooey. Following his movement, she landed half over him, playing with the fine, pale hair at the nape of his neck. "I didn't say no. I just–" Oh crap. "I'm babysitting," she suddenly plucked out of her memory.

Draco's face would have been comical had it been any other moment.

Before he could speak, she huffed. "I do have a big family you know," she said tartly.

"Right." After a beat of slight discomfort he cleared his throat rather uncharacteristically, awkwardly. "Breakfast?" He didn't wait for her answer but rather just drew her up on the way.

Ginny looked unblinkingly up at him. "What if… what if you came with me?" she blurted out suddenly in thoughtful consideration. "I could use the help. We Weasleys require experienced handlers."

Draco's gait stopped at the door. He swivelled slowly to peer back with a look that screamed "are you crazy", complete without question mark. "And you think I have any?"

"Well, no…" Ginny trailed off, inching off the bed and closer until she'd reached him. There, she simply drew up on her toes and quickly pecked him. "But two heads are better than one, right? I'm sure they won't mind if I owl them in advance."

Still he eyed her warily. "Who's _they_?" he asked even as he stroked her spine and then buried a wandering hand in her slightly sleep-dishevelled hair.

Ginny hesitated just enough for him to dread her next words. "Ron and Hermione?" Bingo.

Draco's lips thinned, but in his defense he didn't say a word as he drew her in. Then he pursed his lips, steel and resolve in his eyes. "I need an incentive _and_ a reward after. Deal's off otherwise."

Rolling her eyes, Ginny groaned aloud. "You know, deep inside you're still a slimy bastard," she gritted through her teeth.

Even through the hard stare, he delivered an amused wink under a thick blond fringe. "And you're absolutely gorgeous all fierce and bitch-minded in the morning," he said, stealing a quick kiss.

"Flattering," Ginny grunted dryly.

"Clock's ticking," Draco reminded her none-so-subtly. Then he leaned back fully against his door, silently daring her with half-mast eyes that heated her right to her core.

Ginny licked her lips. On the one hand, the whole idea was a bribe and they were the worst sort of thing to barter with. On the other… "I hate you," Ginny growled even as she drew up to his height to capture his lips between her own. Yeah, on the other hand, could she really think about declining his offer?

"I thought we'd established I was date material," Draco commented carefully between nips that he didn't contribute to. Nope, he was Making It Hard For Her.

Ginny pursed her lips wryly. "I'm seriously reconsidering, to be honest." She paused between kisses, frowning suddenly. "Yeah, the odds are against you."

"Pfft." But with a grunt and a roll of his eyes he kissed her finally and palmed her arse, bringing her flush to him. "How about now?" he muttered, raising a brow.

Blindly, Ginny wrapped her arms around his neck. "Hmm, considering…" she purred into his ear, arching her naked body into him and sending shivers of awareness down his body with light, wandering fingers that soon wrapped around his hardening cock. One long stroke and he pressed his mouth to hers, tongue twining with hers in a clear imitation of what he wanted to do but would have her work hard to get.

She wasn't to be deterred by his lack of active involvement, however. She slithered her leg up his calf quite sinuously and smiled into his mouth when one of his hands cupping her arse went to grab the thigh that rested snugly against his hip… holding her in place.

His muffled moan resounded in her ears when she swept the head of his hardening cock. "Think you'll hold?" she whispered hotly against the crook of his neck before licking her way wetly up his throat.

His answer was blunt fingernails digging into her flesh and a seeking mouth biting into her bottom lip.

At the same time, Ginny slid the tip of him into her. "I think you're ready to… snap," she murmured again when she felt his whole body tense as she rolled her hips shallowly into him, taking him just a tad deeper and then retreating each time. "I think I can make you lose easily, Draco. I can make you… let go." Smiling, she clenched her inner muscles, the walls around him sheathing him tightly.

A harsh grunt, and he twisted them around, pushing her roughly up against the door and then into her to the hilt. A shudder went through them both before he began driving into her, the bet all but forgotten as he simply sought release in her warmth. Ginny's breathless mewls roiled through him, completely taking over his mind. Nothing else mattered but the gentle fluttering that… soon…

She moaned his name brokenly, clutching him to her desperately. Her whole body wrapped and tautened around him in sweet pulls drove him helplessly over the edge. Pressing her back into the door, holding tight, he… let go.

#

His hold on her slackened after a long moment, finally allowing her to slide back down to the balls of her feet. Draco sucked in a breath, attempting to slow down his racing heart.

"Deal's on, then?" Ginny panted, fairy fingers making his sensitised skin jump and tingle.

"Looks like," he replied in a surrendering voice, gloom lacing his words. Oh, he was a dead man tonight. Still… "Don't forget my reward. I have to have something to look forward to when your brother's shooting charmed daggers at my head."

Her sparkling giggle bounced through him as she stretched up to press her lips against his. "He's not that bad, you know."

Draco didn't believe that one minute. "Go take a shower," he evaded gruffly. As she scoffed indignantly, he had something else prepared to avoid him her total wrath. "I'll order breakfast. Poached eggs, crepes, the like." Slapping her generous rump, he watched her skip away with a delighted squeal. And shook his head. Passionate lover one second, spitfire the next, and still joyful the next. Never a dull moment.

#

He was waiting unexpectedly just outside the shower with a heaped plate in his hands and a fork in his mouth when she stepped out. Naturally, she let out an ear-splitting screech and rammed back into the shower stall.

"Merlin's cripes, Draco," she then giggled nervously, opening the door again, "you scared the shit out of me. Ooh, this looks heavenly."

The incident instantly forgotten, Ginny focused on the plate hovering before her eyes, and chose a crepe roll with wild berry and hazelnut cream stuffing. Biting into it, she licked the excess stuffing off her fingers, and moaned her approval.

Draco fed her another bite with his fork. "Am I to understand you prefer this to sex with me?" he quipped smugly as he did, causing Ginny to choke comically on the food in her mouth and make protesting sounds as she was currently unable to speak without making an embarrassing spectacle of herself. "I'm hurt, Gin, _hurt_."

Withering glare and all, she slapped him. Hard. Hey, she'd grown up with six brothers.

"And now doubly so." Draco pouted.

With difficulty, Ginny finally swallowed and wasted no time in turning her verbal stinger on him. "Do you have to be so crude?"

"You grew up with–" he started haughtily.

Ginny raised a half-amused, half-exasperated eyebrow, then crossed her arms over her chest defiantly. "My point exactly. And _you_," she added, suddenly remembering their bargain, "will have to be on your best behaviour tonight."

Draco, bless him, made no face and didn't complain, but handed her the plate of delicious crepes and walked away. _Boys and their big wounds_, Ginny thought as she stuffed another roll into her mouth and went in search of her wand and her clothes to change yesterday's look. Not that she'd complain about spending the night over.


End file.
